attempted isolation ;;OPEN

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]Juliet listened to the soft waves reaching the shore, the sound of water moving over the wet sand, and she felt content. She knew what this feeling was. She was feeling relaxed. She had taken a sick day, which was rare, because she loved teaching art and she loved her artistic students. She just felt the stress piling up, and last night, as she lay wide awake staring at the black ceiling of her empty apartment, she thought that it would be wise of her to take a little break. Take a break from life and just chill out at the beach. This was what she was doing at the moment. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them, wrapping her fair arms around her legs as she stared dully at the ocean blue. The weather was perfect; it wasn’t too hot, and every once in a while a refreshing breeze came along to relieve her. There weren’t too many people at the beach either. They were either at work or at school. She was supposed to be at the latter, seeing as she was a teacher there, but she had decided to take the day off. It was a good decision too; she was beginning to feel better already. She had taken the time to organize her thoughts inside her head. She’d already figured out what she was worried about, why she was worried about it, and what she was planning on doing about it. She figured that her little plan would go into action as soon as time started moving again. For now, though, she was content to be with herself, peacefully listening to the waves.

She was currently wearing a carnation pink hat, as a means to protect her hair from the sun’s UV rays. Before she left, she had donned a white blouse, a matching white skirt, and had pulled on a yellow sweater. Beside her naked feet lay a pair of white flip flops. She was looking pretty colourful and pale. She found this just peachy; she thought that pale and light colours matched her complexion quite nicely. Of course, it was her extremely pale skin and deep, thoughtful maroon-coloured eyes that often won the attention of others. If somebody got past those certain features of her face and her tendency to wear skirts, one could tell that she were a beautiful person. It had been a problem when she first became a teacher at UCLA. They thought she was some sort of punk and had insisted that she did something about her appearance; it was quite a hassle to convince them that it was her natural look. Even then, some of the uptight professors at her work were still unhappy about her looks. Maybe that explained the strange stares she thought she was imagining.

She decided that it was time to get up and walk around to get a bit of exercise into her day. It was already a fine day, she might as well make it better. She felt that the moment she left the beach, reality would smack her in the face with problems and she would have to deal with them for the rest of the day. She refused to let life get her while she was already feeling so happy, but she decided that she’d better make the most of her wonderful time. She began to pace around the beach, her feet rubbing against the soft sand. It felt nice against her feet, and she found herself twisting them into the sand. She quickly realized that she was at a public beach and stopped.

Moving along, she spotted a man. This man looked like a thug, with silver-ish hair and sharp eyes. He looked like he was… attempting to imitate a carpenter? He wasn’t doing a very good job at it, and Juliet thought that she should say something. First, the knife he was holding was looking mighty dangerous. Second, he could get splinters, and he shouldn’t be attempting what he was doing without proper equipment. Third, that wasn’t the kind of thing you did at beaches. Still, she stayed silent, her eyes quickly glancing from the ‘carpentry’ to the man’s appearance. She said nothing as she shifted her weight from one leg to another, her eyes inquisitive and thoughtful. She wanted to see what the man was going to come up with.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]The man continued to work away at the pine block as she made herself apparent, her gaze skeptical and infuriatingly silent. She was standing a few feet away from the man, making sure to keep her distance. She was still wary of the man, mostly because of the intimidating appearance. He looked like he was concentrating hard on making the wood into a recognizable object, because he remained focused even as she stood there. From a spectator’s point of view, one might’ve thought that she was thinking that the man was crazy for attempting carpentry at a public beach, but the reason her one eyebrow was slightly raised was because she was clueless as to where the man was going with his creation. It wasn’t looking like anything, and she figured that if he kept going, it would all just become a pile of wood shavings. She crossed her arms, not intending for it to mean anything, and was set on observing him. She was perfectly comfortable with the silence that most people would find awkward. There’s no need to talk, she thought. She was only interested in what exactly the man was trying to do.

The man shot a glance in her direction, almost enough to send cold shivers up and down her spine, even though it was such a nice day outside. She was beginning to think that she wasn’t welcome. The thought had never occurred to her, mostly because she was preoccupied in attempting to figure out what the object was going to turn out to be. It was kind of like a game of Pictionary, only with a block of wood and a knife. She was surprised to hear the man speak. Juliet thought that she was doing a good job at not being annoying. Apparently it wasn’t so, and when he asked Juliet for her business, she only answered, “Oh, nothing really. I was just wondering why you decided to hold a carpentry session at the beach.” Her lips pursed as her mind let her own words sink in. It came out wrong, and she was almost certain that the man would take it the wrong way. Juliet wasn’t much of a sarcastic person, but she could be rather bitter if she wanted to. The only reason why she would want to be bitter would be if she were royally pissed at somebody’s existence. It had only happened once so far, and that was way back from when she was just a kid. Her brother had pulled a prank on her, and she didn’t appreciate it at all. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she remembered how her precious drawing of a beautiful sunset was ruined by the sloppy scrawl of red marker.

She suddenly realized that she wasn’t making the situation any better for herself. A smile after a remark like that could give one the wrong impression. She quickly shut her mouth, her lips forming a tight line as she silently chastised herself on her improper behavior. She seemed very rude at the moment, and there was now no doubt in her mind that the man would get the wrong impression and think that she was sneering at him, looking down on him. She knew that she only had a few seconds to turn the situation around before it became ugly. “Well… I find it interesting. What’s it going to be?” When she said this, she was obviously referring to the man’s creation, but she doubted a proper answer. The block of wood didn’t look like it was going to look like anything at the moment. As a ways to make the situation a bit brighter, she gave him a sweet lopsided smile. Maybe she was over thinking things, and thus over doing it, but she didn’t want to risk a black eye. If her students saw her like that, it would be horrible. She was practically beside herself as she waited for the man’s reaction, though to a normal person, it would’ve only looked like a perfectly normal conversation between a thug-like carpenter and an extremely odd-looking woman on the beach. Indeed, it was perfectly normal, at least that was what she liked to think.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]So the man wanted to make a goldfish? Well… that wasn’t looking too good. She stayed silent, her mouth now a tight smile. She nodded thoughtfully. It was just the beginning. Maybe when the man finished, he would really have something that looked close to a goldfish. A cool, refreshing breeze wafted past, causing her hair to shift slightly, a stray bang making itself comfortable on her forehead and over her eye. With a sigh, she swiftly brushed it back in place behind her ear, folded her arms across his chest, and observed the man’s progress once more. She still doubted that what he would end up with would be a goldfish, but one could hope, right? She wasn’t one to talk. Although she was an art teacher, she didn’t have much experience in carpentry. The little episode between the two would prove to be useful. “A goldfish, huh..?” she mused quietly, moving one arm from her chest to her chin, letting it rest on her hand. “It seems simple enough to create. But carpentry is never simple…” As she said this, her eyes instinctively moved down to the pile of wood shavings, which were slightly disturbed by the wind, and then they moved to the block of wood, which wasn’t looking like anything at the moment.

Her expression wary, she took a few cautious steps towards the carpenter so that she could watch a bit closer. Juliet noticed his unusually hoarse, small voice, but hadn’t said anything about it, assuming he had just a small cold, or perhaps had lost his voice. “Hmm... if you have a cold, wouldn’t it be wiser to stay at home? Although I have to say that it’s quite a fine day today.” As if on cue, her head lifted so that she could behold the great sky, shining blue. There was a nice breeze going, and it caused her hair to dance in the wind. It almost blew her hat away, but she quickly caught it before it could do so. When she looked back down at the man, he had begun to work once again, busily slicing away at the wood. She was somehow intrigued by the man’s behavior. It was kind of like he was… a bit slow? She had noticed the flurry of expressions on his face as she awaited his response, and noted the fact that confusion was on most of them. Maybe he was trying to question her motives, like why was she talking to a random man on the beach who happened to be carving wood. She looked around and noticed that the other people had been avoiding the two. Maybe it was because of the man’s thug-like appearance, or Juliet’s extremely odd-looks, or perhaps both. Either way, they were being left to their own devices, and she was perfectly fine with that. It was much better than being crowded around by strangers at the beach.

Her intelligent eyes landed on the man’s hardworking face as she rethought her first impression of the man. He seemed nice enough, and he wasn’t telling her to go away, either. He hadn’t even thought anything about her strange behavior when they first met. Maybe he just didn’t catch on, but either way, he just seemed like those easily misunderstood people. She somehow felt guilty when she thought about her first impressions on the man, and how she was extremely wary of him at first. But in a way, the man reminded Juliet of a young boy, determined to finish what was in front of him.

“So… do you actually have experience in carpentry?” she asked, her tone soft. “Or is this new?” She was secretly betting on the latter, judging by his work. However, if one looked closely, one might make out the tip of the fish’s figure. She smiled, pleased to know that he was getting somewhere.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]Juliet blushed slightly when the man corrected her mistake. He was whittling, and it was not carpentry. To be honest, although she was an art teacher, she had never really paid attention to the two, and thus wasn’t able to tell the difference between the two. To be corrected by him wounded her pride, and she looked down at the grains of sand, suddenly uncomfortable with silence. It would’ve been better if this man seemed like the type who talked a lot and disregarded most people’s comments and opinions. Juliet normally hated those kinds of people, but right now she didn’t want a thoughtful person who could pick up those kinds of things. If it were about something else, she wouldn’t have cared if she made a mistake or not, but she considered carpentry (and whittling) to be different types of art. Well, carpentry was building, and whittling was art. She was just embarrassed that she confused the two. “Oh… yes, that’s right,” she murmured quietly, trying not to raise her voice. On the bright side, her blushing face really complimented her maroon eyes. She made a mental note in her head, reminding herself to keep her opinions to herself.

He shook his head at her question as he went on working. He didn’t look like he minded. She relaxed a bit, appreciating his actions. She was probably misunderstanding big time and the man didn’t really care if she mixed the two words, but she still felt the need to feel embarrassed. The pinkish colour in her cheeks toned down a bit when he said something totally unrelated to what she was thinking about. It wasn’t a cold? Well, it seemed like it. Then again, she wasn’t an expert doctor or anything. She just knew when to tell if one was sick, and the doctor could take care of the rest. Contradictory to her motherly nature, she doesn’t trust herself enough to take care of a sick person. She didn’t mind the responsibility, but it was a human life that you were dealing with when you were taking care of a sick person. If you made one mistake, then it could possibly lead to a greater illness, and then it would lead to something so big that the doctors and nurses and all those people who worked at the hospital wouldn’t be able to handle it, and then the inevitable death. It would all be because of one little mistake that was done by the person who originally took care of that sick patient. She was over thinking the whole situation, but it was still a possibility, even if it was an extremely miniscule one. She didn’t want to be the one responsible for a death because her caretaking skills were incompetent. Therefore, she warned the man, “I think you should be getting a doctor…” Wait, didn’t she decide about ten seconds ago that she was going to keep her opinions to herself?

Pretty soon, the whole mix up was forgotten and Juliet was once again silently observing the man’s work, taking care to not make a sound so that she wouldn’t distract him in any way. She was interested, and she didn’t want to be shooed away. The man told her that he had four years of experience, which, to Juliet, was quite a lot of experience. Four years of commitment was always a good thing, even if you weren’t good at it. “I see…” she mused. “To me, that seems like quite a long time. Four years of hard work.” Well, that was assuming that he worked on his whittling skills for four years. She eyed the pine block, which was beginning to form, and dared to wear a skeptical expression on her face. She didn’t say anything, of course.

“Oh,” she remembered, sounding surprised. “I’m being rude. I haven’t even introduced myself. My name’s Juliet. I work as an art professor at UCLA.” She didn’t really expect the man to introduce himself as well. After all, she was the one who imposed on him. She just felt that it was appropriate to introduce yourself if you decide to talk to a stranger.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]The man paid no mind to her reddened face or her little slip-up. She breathed a silent sigh of relief, thanking whatever deity that was listening for allowing her to escape wounding her own pride and the dreaded feeling of abasement. Juliet noiselessly studied the man’s hands, observing the swift movements they made as they whittled away at the block of wood, which was beginning to look more and more like an actual goldfish. Juliet was able to identify the tail of the fish, and assumed that he was going to move onto the body soon. If he didn’t, he’d have a tail fin that looked two sizes too small for the body, or he’d have to make the body of the fish as small as the tail. She was beginning to rethink her first impression of the man and his skills with a knife and a block of wood. Maroon-coloured eyes went from the block of wood to the man, and back. The goldfish wasn’t exactly a golden piece of art, but it was a lot better than what Juliet guessed she was capable of doing. At first, she’d thought he was just an obtuse and peculiar man. Now he was an obtuse man who was capable of doing a few fancy things with a knife and a pine block. She shifted her body weight from one leg and began to lean on the other, watching the knife slice at the wood at a comfortable distance. She was more interested in what the man was doing rather than the man himself.

The pace of his slicing accelerated. Juliet guessed that he was becoming impatient with his work and was now hurrying to complete his little project. A slight sigh escaped from her now upturned lips. She understood the feeling of wanting to get it over with. When she was just starting out as an artist (which was incredibly early), she remembered wanting to behold the finished product, and then allow her family to witness her masterpiece. As a result, she’d become excited and in the end, her product was a sorry excuse of a drawing, even for a four year old. She clearly recalled the sloppy scrawl of blue, red, and yellow magic marker, and then the overwhelming feeling of disappointment with what she’d created.

She probably would’ve told the man to stop rushing. After all, the fun was also in the process, not the end result. However, before she could allow any words to come out of her mouth, the man told her that it wasn’t any of her business. She took a moment to process this, and then another one to figure out what he was talking about. It then dawned over her that he was most likely talking about her suggestion to visit a doctor. Her eyes widened slightly, and her lips twitched, threatening to reveal a savage frown, but she was able to constrain her vexation. “Well, excuse me for trying to be considerate,” she retorted in a soft-spoken manner, though the edge in her voice couldn’t go undetected. She folded her arms across her chest, her brows furrowing slightly. Normally, one would appreciate a little advice. Obviously this man didn’t. She wasn’t about to preach a sermon to him, but she did want to tell him a little about the art of respect. She wasn’t able to, however, because her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an introduction with bad timing, as well as another question. So his name was Ashley. If she were feeling up to it, she would’ve probably poked a little fun at his name, in return for his impudent behavior. What she was worried about was a black eye, brought to her on a silver platter by his fist.

And was that her age that he was inquiring about? Didn’t he know it was rude to ask a woman for her age? It seemed that the man hadn’t believed her when Juliet told him she was a professor. Or, that was how it seemed from Juliet’s perspective. She didn’t make a scene, though; most of her anger was carefully bottled up inside her, and then usually expressed in her paintings when she got home. “I’m twenty-one, thank you very much,” she snapped, albeit quietly, but her tone sharp. “I’d advice you don’t ask that question to other women, if you don’t want to get a palm to the face.” She considered this, glancing at her hand and then Ashley’s cheek, but again she decided against going down the dangerous route. Juliet wasn’t the rash type of person, and she wasn’t about to get slugged because of it. She was still judging Ashley based on his appearance, a habit that she would have to work on breaking.

Was the man just extremely dense, flippant, or a combination of both? At this point, Juliet was unable to tell, his enigmatic behavior difficult to perceive. “So? Is there something wrong with my appearance? Or perhaps it’s my behavior that caused you to ask for my age? Do I seem that young?” she murmured, skilfully getting her point across without raising her voice. Then another possibility struck her. “Or perhaps it’s because of my hair?” If the man was thinking she was an old woman, then he really was in danger of getting slapped across the face. The theory itself wouldn’t be possible if she were talking to just anybody, but Ashley… Ashley didn’t seem like sharpest knife in the drawer.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]Juliet merely sighed and pressed her fingers against her temples, squeezing her eyes shut. She then proceeded to let it all out with one deep sigh, composing herself and resisting the urge to back hand the opaque man across the face. Lifting her eyelids to reveal maroon hues, she shook her head slightly, and retained her calm posture, refusing to let the man bug her. He probably didn’t mean what he said, if he was what Juliet thought he was: thick-headed.

“Never mind, Mr. Quade,” she dismissed his question skilfully, noting his bewildered expression. He would probably get a kick out of the way she addressed him. “You can forget about it… I think.” She looked at him patiently, her lips a tight line, resisting the urge to lash out at him. She laced her fingers and let them fall slack in front of her, and she shook her head as the next set of words left the man’s mouth. He was definitely going to need to learn how to word his sentences, or he would suffer from being shunned by most normal civilians. Of course, Ashley seemed like the type who would be blissfully unaware if he were in such a situation. He was a lucky man, in a way.

Juliet was suddenly quite intrigued, observing the “goldfish” and its progress. Much to her blatant surprise, it was actually looking like one. The rear end was just about complete. Juliet would’ve actually complimented him, if it weren’t for his flippant behavior. Again, he was probably ignorant, but still. There was a limit to how thick you could get.

“No, it is not a wig,” she replied curtly, her arms still folded across her chest, though the tone of her voice wasn’t as sharp, and still just as soft-spoken. It was almost like she had trouble raising her voice. Not that it bothered her; she was perfectly fine with it. You didn’t need to be a loud mouth to be a good painter. “It’s my natural hair colour, much to most people’s surprise,” she added, patting the top of her head.

She sighed softly once more as the assistant cook asked for the reason of her anger. Most people would’ve picked up on it by now, but not this one. “Well… first, you’re being rather frank,” she counted with her fingers, as if she were making check marks on a to-do list. “Second… not many women like being asked about their age. Remember that; it will serve you well.” So now Juliet was spoon feeding the man. Well, this was for his well-being, not hers. “Myself included.”

Now it was the comment on how she was apparently too young to be a professor, or at least, that was how Juliet interpreted his words. He probably didn’t mean it like that; Juliet should’ve known better. “I don’t really think your age matters, as long as you’re perfectly capable of teaching.” She gestured to herself with her arms. “For example, I consider myself rather competent artist, which is why I teach.” When the words “competent artist” left her lips, her eyes flickered to the piece of pine that was resting on his legs, and then back to the man.

She finished speaking, letting the last of her words hang in the salty air, the sound of seagulls filling the silence.[/style]

[style=width: 400px; background-color: #f9f8f8; overflow: auto; font: 10px Tahoma; padding: 10px; margin-bottom: 10px; text-align: justify; color: 393939; opacity: 0.7; -moz-opacity: 0.7; ]Juliet gracefully unfolded her arms, letting her left arm fall slack beside her body and grabbing her womanly biceps with her right hand, retaining a feminine pose. The young female’s slightly downturned eyes observed Ashley’s progress like a mother beholding a newborn baby. She was leaning on her left leg, causing her body to shift sideways, and her lush, wavy blonde (almost white) hair fell behind her in a fashionably disarrayed manner. Juliet’s countenance was no longer harsh, or even pitiable. Now it was rather deadpan, though she still managed to retain a soft, gentle look, although it was slightly bitter. At that moment, the young femme possessed attributes of a snow goddess; genteel, placid, and somewhat cold.

Juliet’s maroon hues widened slightly at the male’s comment. Her eyes flickered towards the top of Ashley’s head. It was much like hers; it was almost white, or perhaps it was. Her head nodded slightly at the man. The action was curt, and it would probably go unnoticed to the opaque boy. She followed the acknowledgement with, “Of course…” Ashley was one of the few with strange-coloured hair. He was not part of the majority, but that realization most likely went straight over his head. She sighed softly, her eyelids fluttering like a firefly’s wings. “Ignorance is bliss,” she murmured quietly, the edge in her tone returning. However, it wasn’t because she thought the man was stupid; her tone of voice was fueled by an irrational and very unreasonable jealousy. It was in middle school where the children had begun to wonder why her hair was so different from the rest. She got by without much bullying, but still. Juliet’s school experience didn’t need strange side-glances that, much to her chagrin, were obviously directed at her.

After completing her little list on why Ashley wasn’t going to be so hot with the ladies (bar a few – some women thought that missing a few brain cells was cute), his response was almost immediate. It told Juliet that he genuinely believed in what he said. Well… being frank did have its uses, like when you’re offering criticism. Unfortunately, nobody was offering anything near criticism, and if anybody were, then it should’ve been Juliet, the one watching the pine blocks progress. Still, being frank was mostly considered rude, though, last time Juliet checked. Of course, with the way that the world seemed to move without her, it was very possible that she was behind the times and now being frank was a thing.

Juliet seemed to notice the pine block at the same time as Ashley – it was no longer a pine block, but rather, it was looking like an actual goldfish. The basic shape was there – Juliet could tell – though it was still far from smooth. Of course, she hadn’t expected it to be. Juliet wasn’t the expert on… whittling, and if she were, then the art professor would’ve already been teaching the young man. At the thought of teaching Ashley, her lip twitched slightly, threatening a smile. It would’ve been nice, and she could tell that the man needed it, but she would have to learn about it first before she gave any more rash opinions. She would have to remind herself to search it up and research it once she got home.

Ashley seemed to be taking a break – judging from the way he laced his hands and stretched – and she also thought that it was an appropriate time to take a break. After all, the man had gotten very far on his mini project, and it wasn’t very healthy to work non-stop for too long. She nodded approvingly, though other than for her head, she didn’t move an inch, although her clothes were rustling in the sea breeze.

A pink tone thrilled her cheeks as he mentioned how quickly she seemed to obtain her teaching degree. It was true – she had gotten it rather quickly, and some humble part inside of her preferred that she didn’t talk about it. So, instead of saying something comparatively sassy, she merely bowed her head and gazed at the tiny grains of sand that had seemed to collect at her feet.

“Well… I suppose. But, I think your goldfish is coming along quite nicely,” she skillfully brushed off the bit about the teaching degree and instead complimented the man, almost waiting to see him blush and look down at his feet. Of course, not everybody was like her, so that would prove to be a rather short-lived dream.[/style]